Embers of Memory
by Kahara
Summary: AU. A dangerous experiment brings the past to life and threatens the balance of the Force. While Anakin Solo struggles to maintain his identity and escape from the New Empire, Tahiri Veila faces the possibility of a war within the Jedi Order.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note (5/4/07): Although I still intend to finish this story someday, I have decided that it needs a major overhaul. There are some things that I still like about it, but over time some parts have started to seem far too melodramatic and the characterizations feel inconsistent in certain places. The multiple viewpoints make the different plotlines hard to manage, and I am considering that it might be better to only show the events as Tahiri and Anakin see them. The story also begins in the middle. Since the plot has gotten more complicated, that doesn't seem like the right place to start anymore.

For now, I have re-edited each chapter in an attempt to remove or replace the parts that bothered me the most. I am keeping my replies to the comments on the original versions of the chapters, even though they are somewhat changed now. In the future, I will probably go back and change the story further and it will most likely end up being reposted.

Timeframe: Takes place after the YJK series. The events that bring some OT and prequel era characters back occur when Anakin Solo is 15.

Characters: Anakin Solo, Tahiri Veila, Jaina Solo, Jacen Solo, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn, Luke Skywalker, Siri Tachi, Palpatine, Brakiss, Xanatos, and numerous original characters have appeared so far. Anakin Skywalker, Leia, Han, Zekk, Bant Eerin, Mara Jade, and others will be seen in the future.

Genre: alternate universe, drama, adventure, some humor

_Credits_: Thanks to Xeana, who beta-ed the first three or so sections (as posted here) for me.

_Disclaimer_: I do not own the Star Wars universe.

Anakin Solo muttered uneasily as vague images moved through his dreams. Himself and others running, trying to escape. Fighting a whirlwind of yammering figures that suddenly appeared to block the scratched durasteel doors of a huge room, leaping too far in pursuit-- the sudden, unbelievable, incomprehensible pain as he crashed into a wall, rebounded, and plummeted to the ground.

And then there was the chaotic impression of some huge fiery creature taking hold of him, scratching with acidic claws.

Slowly, he regained consciousness. The pain was still there, though it was dulled. Maybe he had been given painkillers of some sort. The first sound he became aware of was a harsh, measured gasping noise—one that he'd heard only in historical documentaries on the holovid.

_Vader?_

Instinct took over. Anakin only recognized the noise as a threat, not reasoning whether its source could possibly still exist.

Anakin remained completely still, partly to assess the situation and partly because he somehow felt that he couldn't be seen so long as he made no movement. Tentatively, he scanned his surroundings with the Force.

It was difficult work due to the fact that he had to shield himself carefully. Shrouding his usage of the Force had become nearly second nature, but it required intense concentration.

He searched for signs of heat outside himself. Trying to sense minds would only alert any Force sensitive his probe came into contact with. No heat signatures he detected seemed to be the kind that might be given off by a living being, even a mostly cybernetic one. However, Anakin couldn't shake off the feeling that something was very wrong here, that there was some possibly dangerous anomaly.

Anakin opened his eyes slightly, then more fully as the blurry picture revealed there was no one else in the room. A rather large amount of medical equipment was neatly arranged near the bed where he now lay.

This must be an infirmary of some sort, then. That wasn't too surprising since he ached severely from whatever had happened to him in the last moments he could recall.

Attempting to sit up, he found his movement restricted by a bulky, plasteel-armored outfit. Black armor. This was too familiar. Anakin's unease grew. He examined the armor, trying to sense how to remove it. He wasn't sure how he intended to escape from the installation-- which must still be the Chkenna Indoctrination and Training Center he'd grown to know and hate-- but he was strangely desperate to be rid of this thing. It wasn't just the connection to the last being he knew of who'd worn such a thing. Something else was wrong, something that his conscious mind hadn't quite grasped yet.

As he reached out to sense it, the apprehension turned to panic. There was no way to remove the—machinery. It wasn't just an imitation. That constant, maddening rasping sound was coming from him, not from a former Sith returned from the grave.

Disorientation and fear gripped his mind, but one thought emerged clearly. Anakin should have realized it couldn't be his grandfather, who had turned back to the Light before his death. He wouldn't have been likely to sense any threat from the man—and should have expected the presence to be benign, if anything.

Memories of the recent past were hazy. There had been a group escape attempt, Anakin remembered that much. The plan had been mostly his idea. It must not have been a very good one.

What had happened to the others? He hoped they had survived and escaped, but nevertheless felt a sense of dread. Palpatine was determined to turn Anakin's strength in the Force to his own purposes, and Anakin doubted the Sith would admit defeat by having him killed. However, the others had no such assurances. Numerous executions were seen as an efficient way of keeping order. Anakin gritted his teeth. He had been at the least risk of any of them, and some flaw of his planning may have lead to their deaths.

"The others" was not the most accurate way to think of them. Truthfully, they were friends. They had worked together, laughed together, risked everything to help and protect each other. It was just hard to think of them as friends, when friends were meant to be permanent. In this environment, life was never certain from one day to the next.

Random moments with them often became fixed in his mind, as though keeping the memory of every ordinary event might somehow prevent the loss of the people involved. Even now, these were the clearest images he could recall. Ystas bandaging the cut that he had insisted was too minor to require medical attention (it was.) Varsha trying to set an example by picking at a plate of what passed for food (it wasn't.) Phelan claiming that he had been marked for death by technology everywhere (he probably had been.) Orinda claiming that she had not been intentionally placing her made-of-trash sculpture where innocent passerby would trip over it (she probably had not been.) Delbin showing a new trainee that it was possible to wield a lightsaber without losing a limb (he could.) Taveiran attempting to sing "I Am the Bantha" in tune (he couldn't.)

Somehow, everything had gone wrong. Anakin did not know how he would deal with it if anything had happened to the others because of his bad planning. They had deserved so much better.

The hissing of the respirator scattered his concentration, and he lost the thought. It was easier to stop thinking at all, and eventually sleep returned.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the review, MistiWhitesun.

It is creepy to learn that there are other stories that are somehow similar to this. This story comes from an idea I've had for years, and I thought it was such a crazy idea nobody would write anything like it! I'll have to check those out, but I really doubt they are going in the same direction as this one. That would be truly insane. If the resemblance is just in the bringing people back to life, I've seen so many stories using the idea (including the Dark Empire comics and the novels with Callista) that I didn't think it would matter if the concept was used.

I apologize for any confusion. Sometimes I get a little carried away. The dash thing is something I will try when I figure out the weird editing features here.

Just to clear up any confusion, the people in the training center referred to by Sith ranks (Lord This and Lady That) aren't really Sith, though they use the same custom of changing their names and having titles. Of course some of them think they're Sith, but they are actually more of a watered-down version that was originally created as an experiment in organization and training methods at the Shadow Academy. The only traditional Sith in this story are from canon.

"Lady Cynaiad?" She whirled to face the speaker, the sleeve of her robe scattering the sliced remains of some unidentifiable small creature.

Melanc jumped back to avoid the debris, his lip curling slightly in disgust. One never wanted to get too close to the results of Kivyan's favorite hobby. Rumor had it that some of the things in various states of dissection lying about her quarters were once sentient, still living, or both of the above.

"What?" she demanded impatiently. "If I've told Agwara once, I've told her a thousand times to keep you pathetic, sniveling larvae out of my way. This had better be something important for once."

It wasn't bad enough that Brakiss had seen fit to saddle herself and her apprentice with a pack of useless idiot trainees during their time at the Shadow Academy. Their new superiors had dumped even more of the mindless garbage at their doorstep.

Thankfully, she wasn't required to take any part in their training and could leave that infuriating little task to Agwara. However, somehow they always managed to interrupt her when she was most absorbed in her work.

Melanc glared resentfully, then caught himself and returned to the standard blank expression that most tried to retain in dealing with Gir Kevian. It was impossible to actually look friendly towards her, but outright disgust could get a person in deep trouble.

"I've been sent to inform you that our group will be receiving a small number of new students."

He handed her a datapad displaying a list of names. Delbin Jaresh, Varsha Amethar, Taveiran Kehere, Orinda Rhywan. She hurled the datapad back at him, and he yelped as the transparent screen shattered, leaving tiny shards embedded in his arm.

"Leave. Now!" she spat, and Melanc scrambled out the door.

Cynaiad could not believe this. Why should she have to deal with traitors and juvenile delinquents, along with all of these other incompetent washouts?

She and Agwara were already the dumping ground for seemingly the majority of trainees too stupid to be trained elsewhere. The last thing needed was this.

All of the students on that list were involved in that inept escape attempt that had taken place a few days ago. Kehere and Jaresh had been well-known creators of trouble long before then. Now she would be forced to deal with them.

They would stay far away from her if they know what was good for them; they should have been executed on the spot after their little stunt.

She disliked the idea of more students at any rate. The ones already present occupied the majority of her apprentice's time, and caused her to behave strangely on occasion.

Lady Agwara was normally the picture of competence and obedience. Unfortunately, she had some quirks that had made Cynaiad nervous for most of the time they'd been acquainted. The last truly disturbing incident had occurred a long time ago, but Cynaiad had not forgotten.

This increase in the number of trainees bothered her. She knew they were likely to be more loyal to Agwara than to herself. While they were, in her opinion, weak and stupid on the whole, nevertheless she didn't like being so outnumbered.

She resolved to think this through more fully later, and returned her concentration to her work.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks, MistiWhitesun. I'm glad you are enjoying it. It's a bit short on action and dialogue at this point since it kind of starts in the middle of things and I keep having to go back and explain what's going on. There will be confrontations between Jedi and Sith But the most important one, which might take place in a sequel to this if it's ever finished, will hopefully be different from the usual. Coincidences can be really strange. It sounds like we've entered the Twilight Zone of fanfic writing. At least you're accidentally using the same stuff as Kathy Tyers instead of soap operas or something. It could be much, much worse.

Following in the wake of Brakiss, who seemed to have been assigned as his escort, Anakin could only be thankful that the man had foregone his usual glaringly bright silver robes.

His eyes still had not entirely adjusted from the darkness of his room in the medcenter. The lights had malfunctioned soon after he first woke up and hadn't come back on before he was hurried out of the room by Brakiss this—morning, afternoon, evening? He had no idea what time it was or how long he had been recovering, if one could call it that.

No one had so much as stuck their head through the doorway to check on him in all that time, and he felt as though what injuries could heal had only halfway done so.

He supposed Palpatine must have wanted him to brood over the pain. If that was the case it had been a successful strategy.

Perhaps the lighting had been intentional as well? Being physically in darkness before turning -- that must be the point of this. The illusion of being willing to go along had to have been destroyed by the escape attempt.

No, before. His encounter with the flaming remains of the control center, or at least something like it, had obviously been planned.

Maybe the traditional method for making someone into a Sith is somewhat like that for growing fungus. Keep them in the dark and feed them poodoo, he thought, needing to laugh at something about this situation because it was too horrible to be real.

He had adjusted to obeying people hated, following arbitrary and cruel rules and orders, and seeing those few people in this place he had allowed himself to care for treated like they were nothing.

He had even become used to knowing that his life no longer included the family and friends of the world he had left behind. He had accepted that he would most likely never see them again, though he was determined to never stop trying to get home.

Nothing could have prepared him to deal with this.

The probable loss of his friends and allies who had been part of the escape attempt was devastating enough. But never even in his worst nightmares had he imagined that Palpatine would try this kind of tactic to trap him into his grandfather's old role as Darth Vader.

It had to be part of the man's insanity, this belief that Anakin could be forced to mimic the past so exactly. As if he could take orders from--that.

Even the thought of it brought an overwhelming sense of rage that made his head ache, distracting him from everything else. Anakin tried to rid himself of the feeling. He knew it would make him vulnerable to the mind games the Emperor was so fond of.

It refused to budge, lodging its sharp nails in his skull like a sea squirrel in the branches of its coral home. He hated this, hated being immovably chained to this place and this role by little more than wires and air.

Of course, leaving had been nearly impossible before. But there had at least been the knowledge, taken for granted, that he would be able to survive outside the Center should he ever manage it.

As expected, he had found a number of tracking devices and enough explosives to level a small cargo ship scattered throughout his life-support systems. It could take years for him to disable the things without triggering them or alerting any machines set up to monitor them to his tampering.

Brakiss halted suddenly in front of a pair of doors Anakin remembered well from nearly a year ago.

He'd been summoned to the Emperor's throne room not ten minutes after he was brought to the Center. It had not gone well, to say the least. The aftereffects had been extremely painful for several days, and he had had problems with uncontrollable twitching in his hands for weeks.

The hair had been the least troublesome, but the most embarrassing, frizzing up in a way that looked downright ridiculous. That was one effect of Force-lightning he had never heard of, and would have been just as happy never to learn about.

He watched in slight confusion as Brakiss turned and walked away without a word.

Very odd. From Jacen and Jaina's stories, the man usually couldn't resist talking whenever he had an audience for his ego.

Anakin had been surprised to see Brakiss had been revived since most of those who were had been born much earlier than him. Then again, he'd heard that the genetic material used in Zalrin's mess of an experiment had been taken from a repository collected by Imperial scientists throughout the years the Empire was in power. Brakiss certainly would have been alive and known as a Force-sensitive during that time.

Truth be told, he didn't care that much one way or another. He was stalling.

The doors slid open as though his thoughts had been heard. They probably had. Reluctantly, he walked inside, trying not to flinch as he heard the doors slam shut again behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

Chimalys Ianth walked swiftly down the corridor, heading for the last door in this hall. The Force-users who now composed the majority of Coruscant Central Hospital's patients had amazingly stubborn friends and relatives. Evicting them at the end of visiting hours seemed to have become her responsibility. Certainly, it was a job nobody else wanted.

The hospital had been overflowing with Jedi ever since this batch of patients had been brought in.

There were so many of the patients alone that at least half had still not been able to be removed from their odd stasis. Trying to do so too quickly, when these people were first discovered, had resulted in injury and even death in a couple of cases.

So now the doctors were being very careful. However, this meant there were thousands of Jedi and others still trapped in a coma-like state.

Some had not been matched to any records, even their names remaining unknown.

She sighed, running her pass through the scanner to get into the room. It was not that she had anything against Jedi. Actually, it was rather fascinating to get to know some of them as real people rather than pictures in the news.

However, those who were close to these Jedi patients tended to be Jedi themselves, and they were extremely difficult to convince to leave. Especially this next group. They were nearly impossible to remove, as she had learned over the past several months.

Three heads turned towards Dr. Ianth as she entered the room, wearing almost identical obstinate expressions.

Luke Skywalker was, of course, instantly recognizable. She wasn't sure how he knew the patient in this room—what was his name, Kinovee? There were so many names, it was hard to recall.

Then there were the others, who might have introduced themselves a while ago, but she didn't remember the names. One was rather frightening blond woman, maybe about twenty-five standard years old. The other, who didn't look a day over fourteen, was tall and awkward-looking, with long brown hair that hung past his shoulders. He was a Jedi, a Jedi Master in fact, which she knew only because she had had to deal with him when he was still a patient. That had been even more aggravating than this unpleasant task.

She looked at the group, seeing the determination in their eyes, and decided that this time they were unlikely to even listen to her arguments.

She didn't enjoy clearing them out, but sometimes there was no other choice aside from allowing them to set up camp permanently.

"It's time. Out with all of you!" She crossed her arms trying to give her sternest look. Actually, the doctor was rather touched by their devotion to their friend, but they would become insufferable if they knew it.

The odd group climbed to their feet and walked out of the door, muttering all the way. Leaning against the wall, Dr. Ianth smiled in relief.

Finally. The last ones, for today.


	5. Chapter 5

Returning to the corridor, Ianth felt her heart jump when she heard a low whooshing sound that seemed to come from the left. Sithspit. She knew that noise.

It was the sound the shields around the high-security ward made when someone entered it. Some of them had to shut down to let the person through.

The door shouldn't open to anyone without a pass, but everyone was always alerted when somebody did so beforehand. It was a precaution in case one of the Dark Jedi inside somehow came out of the stasis and escaped.

There had been no such warning this time, and she doubted anyone else had heard it. This end of the hospital was deserted except for the last of the rooms for Jedi in stasis and the high-security section, where nobody normally went alone.

It wasn't even guarded by a living being, just a high-tech security system and some sort of monitoring that the Jedi claimed to be doing.

Too panicked to think about calling security, she ran towards the high-security ward as fast as she was able.

She saw that the door had been left open, and crept in, not sure what she expected to find.

Dozens of stasis chambers as they had originally been found lined the room. The faces of the beings within remained emotionless.

Many were intimidating simply because of their appearance. Some showed strange tattoos, scars that ran in grotesque patterns, or sharp predatory fangs and claws on species that wouldn't have naturally possessed them.

In Dr. Ianth's opinion, though, these were the least frightening. The ones that truly chilled her blood were those who looked utterly ordinary in every way. She could have passed by them every day of her life, and never suspected any danger.

They were physically ordinary people, only different from herself because they had been given a connection to a mysterious energy field, and for some reason they'd made the wrong choices in using it. Sometimes only one wrong choice.

Hearing soft footfalls near the end of the room, she rushed toward the sound. She only stopped at the last minute, suddenly remembering that anyone who came to this place in secret was more than likely to be dangerous.

The other person did not even notice her presence, however. It was the teenaged Jedi she had just kicked out of what's-his-name's room. His eyes were fixed on one of the chambers, and he moved forward as if in a trance.

"No, you don't want to do that!" She wasn't sure what 'that' might be, but she knew of the occupant of that particular apparatus. Even being in the same room as him probably shortened one's life expectancy by several years.

Many of those who had been assigned to check up on him before it was realized that he must be a Dark Jedi had suffered from inexplicable headaches, exhaustion, and recurring nightmares. One had even sustained electrical burns somehow, which had been the reason for his being moved here. He still had not been identified.

The boy continued towards the stasis chamber, stopping before where it was laid on its shelf. He stared at the figure within, a human who appeared no older than he himself did.

The being in the chamber, whoever, he was, had long black hair that shone even in the dim blue light of this room. His skin was so pale it appeared to glow surreally.

Dr. Ianth remembered hearing him referred to as 'the vampire.' The unconscious figure certainly bore a certain resemblance to the traditional image of the legendary supernatural beings.

Yet he looked peaceful, serene. It was hard to imagine that such a creature could ever be dangerous.

Reaching out slowly, still appearing hypnotized, the brown-haired boy looked as though he were going to lay his hand on the transparisteel covering of the container.

"Don't," she whispered, a feeling of dread paralyzing her.

As the Jedi touched the surface, flickers of blue light appeared on it, twisting around and under his hand as if they sensed its presence. He snatched it back, hissing loudly and shaking it.

He seemed to become aware of Dr. Ianth's presence, then, turning around to look for his observer. She walked towards him cautiously, asking, "How did you get in here?"

"I have a pass."

She watched him, wondering how he had acquired a pass. As far as she knew, the only people authorized to be in this area were specially trained doctors and security, and a few high-ranking Jedi.

Obviously the Jedi was connected to the person in that container, but how?

"Do you know him?" She gestured at the stasis chamber.

"No. I never knew him." His expression seemed much older than it had earlier.

"All right. Let's go."

She knew he had been concealing something, but then she had noticed that Jedi tended to keep their pasts to themselves. Besides, he had a right to keep some secrets from an almost complete stranger. In spite of his being a somewhat difficult patient, Ianth had always sensed he was a good person. It was unlikely he would endanger anyone; he seemed like somebody who would take his duty to the welfare of others very seriously.

They left in silence, except for the echoing growl of the shields returning to full power.


	6. Chapter 6

MistiWhitesun: Okay, that made a lot more sense. And thanks for pointing out the exact place. I'll edit that eventually, but it may take a while. I wrote about half of this months ago. I tend to worry that I will end up fixing things over and over on the parts already written and lose the momentum to keep writing new chapters. My plan is to finish this at some point and then go back to change the weird sentences and so on. I'm kind of iffy on this part, not sure if its too gory or too mild. By the way, are the lines distracting?

The room was as Anakin remembered from his last visit.

_Gruesomely bad décor, and worse company_, he thought.

Grating laughter followed his entrance, immediately provoking a desire to throw something heavy at its source. Better yet, to toss that source somewhere where it could receive the appreciation it deserved. Somewhere like a reactor shaft, or a heap of blazing wreckage.

The Emperor appeared to be alone, his usual guards nowhere in sight. The reluctant visitor wasn't sure why, but that felt like an ominous sign.

Venomous yellow eyes observed Anakin with amusement.

"Well, Solo. You seem to have inherited Vader's fashion sense if nothing else. It is unfortunate that you have failed to grasp the power you were born into. Such a shame to see that potential wasted. Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

There was a tone of mocking concern and sincerity in Palpatine's voice that made Anakin's still-unfamiliar cybernetic hands clench. Anakin tried to speak, to tell the Sith precisely where he could put his ridiculous manipulations. His mouth seemed to be sealed shut, though.

The pain in his skull had been growing and now suddenly sharpened. Now Anakin could feel that it was not caused by stress at all.

Palpatine was breaking through his shields.

He felt disconnected from the world, as though exhausted. At the same time, he was overwhelmed by a blinding, insatiable flood of rage. The feelings carried him along, drawn as if by cords of steel by the intruding presence. There was an inescapable sensation of malice, like a horrible stench that clung to every corner of his mind. Worse, it felt like it burned whatever it touched, like it was fire.

As Anakin lunged forward, he heard the distinctive humming of an activated lightsaber. There was a flare of crimson light. The small, detached part of his awareness that could still think at all wondered where the lightsaber he held had come from. Had he been carrying it on his way here? Or had it been lying unnoticed somewhere in the shadows of this room?

It didn't matter. He had to obliterate every trace of this creature. The other mind directed him toward it. He couldn't resist, and didn't want to. This was all the Sith's fault. All the terror and pain of the past year. Destroy him, and it would all end.

He slashed at the image before him, oblivious to the fact that it never appeared to be damaged. The noise of the saber connecting with something was audible-- and then everything stopped.

The fury that had been bombarding him from outside suddenly ceased, his own anger draining away into confusion.

The hooded form faded away, and in its place lay two bodies in black trainee uniforms.

Anakin stumbled away, gagging.

"No. No. I can't. No." The strangled whispers and harsh breaths were amplified by the helmet and seemed as loud as screams in the silent room.

A hooded figure emerged from an area that had been obscured by the darkness. Chuckling without humor, Palpatine smiled at him. Then he began to speak, but Anakin did not notice.

First he had been horrified, but now everything felt so surreal that some part of him was sure this must be some sort of hideous dream. The Emperor had disappeared into thin air, and now here he was again. The other vision, which he would not think about, had appeared in what formerly looked like empty space. He would not look at it. It was not real. Nothing here could be real.

"—May yet prove yourself to be a worthy apprentice. You will be transferred to a different training group, of course. Perhaps the same one as your other little friends? I'm sure they will be delighted to see you."

Palpatine handed him a data sheet, which he took automatically. "I assume you can follow the directions without any foolishness, no attempts to leave the building? Excellent. You may leave."

Wandering aimlessly, Anakin didn't consider trying to escape. In fact, he tried not to be aware of anything. If he were to think, he would have to decide what was real.

He eventually recalled the data sheet, and examined it. Figuring he might as well head in a particular direction, he followed the written instructions.

He drifted to the turbolift in Corridor 14D, which was familiar to him. Then he took the turbolift to Level 8, which was not. Once he arrived there he found himself in the middle of a long hallway. He located the second door on the left, entered through it.

Anakin sat down in the first empty chair he spotted, unaware of the stares of the room's occupants. It didn't matter where he was, if none of this was really happening.


	7. Chapter 7

She could barely see to walk in the dimness. At first the pitch-darkness and feeling of space had reminded her of an underground cavern, but the surface beneath Tahiri's feet was cold, smooth metal. The thrum of a lightsaber slicing through the air came from behind her. At the corner of her eye, a blood-red glow flared and then vanished. For a moment there was nothing more. Then the sound of quiet, choked sobbing reached her ears.

Sensing a familiar presence, she headed toward it. As Tahiri drew closer, she could see the silhouettes of two bodies crumpled on the floor and that of another person kneeling and slumped over near them. She broke into a run.

"Anakin!"

He flinched, but did not change his position. Now she could see that the floor where he knelt was covered in a pool of blood.

Tahiri crouched down beside her friend. Reaching out, she lifted his chin so he was looking straight at her. His face glistened with tears. The eyes that had always seemed strangely pale were shadowed, reflecting only the darkness around them.

"Anakin?"

"I didn't do it. It wasn't me. Please, you have to believe this. Just tell me that you believe me."

She wanted to agree. Instead she found herself taking his hand in hers.

"I'm here."

"You'll leave."

"No, I won't. I'm staying right here. Nothing will make me leave, not even you. I won't let you be alone in this."

"I... I think you'll have to."

He grimaced as if in agony. A large, jagged scar became visible, running from chin to ear over the right side of his face. A strange black substance moved over his features like a living thing, and formed itself into a mask. Tahiri looked down at Anakin's arm and the hand she held. Wires and machinery slithered out from beneath the skin, and were in turn engulfed by black coverings and armor.

"I don't want to be like him. Why can't I stop this? Don't leave. If I'm alone, I'll forget to fight it."

The mechanical hand was nearly crushing hers. She held on tenaciously. Tahiri wasn't sure what was happening, but she knew Anakin needed her now. Though she hadn't been there when he was captured by the Sith, she was here now. This time she would not fail.

She became more worried when she realized that Anakin was slowly becoming transparent. Everything else was fading as well, melting into the darkness. The grip on Tahiri's hand became more and more insubstantial, until it was no longer there. There was only blackness and empty space around her now. Anakin was somewhere else, and she felt herself drawn towards the distant echo of a concerned voice calling her.


	8. Chapter 8

Opening his eyes, Anakin blinked in confusion. He must have fallen asleep again. It seemed to be happening too often lately. The dream had felt different in a way that reminded him of the vision dreams he had been prone to as a child. However, those dreams used to foretell the future. This dream seemed to take place in the recent past, and involved events he hoped were nothing but a nightmare.

Maybe the dream had been a vision, but why would the entire nightmare be real in a vision? Visions were supposed to tell the truth, or part of it.

"Hey, are you all right? You were mumbling."

A young girl in a black student uniform looked at him curiously. Her dusty brown hair stuck out in odd places, as though she had recently been climbing trees or leaning her head out from a moving speeder to feel the wind.

She appeared to be about twelve years old, or maybe even younger. That was strange; Anakin had never seen such a young student here. Her aura in the Force had a hint of mischief to it that reminded him of Taveiran. Although there was caution, and strong shielding of her actual thoughts, he also sensed warmth and curiosity.

"What? I'm sorry, but where is this?"

"Still in the Center. Same old, same old. Except you haven't seen this part of it before, I guess. Welcome to Training Group 4B. It's probably not very different from your last one. The highest ranking person in charge is Lady Cynaiad, better known as the Womprat."

"I hate to ask, but where did that nickname come from?"

"Playing with dead animals tends to make her smell-- well, you can probably guess. Her personality isn't all that sweet and flowery either."

"And you call her _that_?

"Well, not to her face. I started calling her that when I was seven, and it kind of stuck. She'd have a fit if she knew. It's okay, though. She hardly ever leaves her den."

"You've been with these people for an awfully long time if you knew her when you were seven."

"Six, actually. I was kidnapped and and taken to the Shadow Academy when it just starting to be built."

"I don't think you've told me your name," Anakin said questioningly. "Mine is Anakin Solo."

"What in the heck happened to you?" she blurted. Her face turned red. "I mean..." she muttered, her voice trailing off.

_What am I supposed to say to that?_

"Uh, I meant to say my name is Kefa. Kefa Shanessen."

He suddenly had an intense sensation of being watched from behind. Turning to look, he found his gaze drawn to a figure that occupied the bench in the room's opposite corner.

The being was female and human, though it was a bit difficult to tell at first glance. Her hair was reddish-brown dyed with vibrant blue streaks. A gray metallic mask that hooked around the back of the neck covered most of her face, though eyes and mouth were left bare. The lower half of the mask was formed to resemble fanged jaws, and it gave the overall impression of a snarling animal. The watcher's age was impossible to guess at. Although her long limbs were lean and bony, there was no sign of adolescent awkwardness about her posture.

She looked as if she were ready to spring at him in a millisecond given any reason. Motionless, she observed Anakin with the intent stare of a wild predator.

"The paranoid one is Raina. You might want to call her Lady Agwara, though, to be safe." Kefa grinned at him, rolling her eyes. She didn't seem concerned by the attention; possibly she was used to it. Leaning over, she whispered, "Raina's not as mean as she looks. Don't worry."

Somehow, Anakin wasn't sure this was an accurate judgement.

"Want a tour of the place?" It wasn't his first choice of things to do right now, which would have been to stay where he was. Kefa looked like she was set on the idea, though. She must not have a chance to talk to new people very often.

Following as Kefa trotted purposefully around the room, he was introduced to about a dozen people so quickly that their names slipped his mind. The only one Anakin remembered for certain was Jarn Lians, who gave them a sullen glare as they passed.

They entered a door to the side of the room. "This is where we end up living most of the time." Her expression made it clear that this was a never-ending source of annoyance to Kefa. "The worst part is that Raina's a morning person. We'll be dragged in here when it's so early, the only things that should be awake are the moonflitters."

The group's practice room looked somewhat similar to the other one he'd been training in. A large box-shaped room, it was mostly featureless. Pieces of scrap jutting out of the wall would serve as handholds for climbing, and a few heavy, rectangular blocks lay scattered about the floor. These could be used for exercises in moving large objects with the Force, or for practice fighting on uneven ground.

The only difference Anakin could see was that the floor and parts of the walls were covered. Apparently there had been an attempt at cushioning the durasteel, though the materials used looked like pieces of junk that had been scrounged from trash rather than things intended for that use. The mismatched and shredded padding gave the room a feeling of personality that was disconcerting after months of seeing only bare gray metal.

In Group 4D, where he'd been placed before, those in charge had made it clear that they considered any kind of safety precautions to be wasted. The entire fourth section of groups included A through E. It was made up of students who had low levels of Force ability, or were unwilling or unable to become the competent Dark Jedi the training center was meant to produce. This was why many of Anakin's classmates had not been Darksiders, in spite of their situation. The instructors themselves were often considered to be failures in one way or another, and frustration over this might explain why some were unusually vicious even for supporters of Palpatine.

Now Kife was silent, and he could hear what sounded like young female voices speaking, but he couldn't tell what they were talking about. They were distant and strange, reminding him of the way his family's conversations had sometimes sounded when he was ill and feverish. Two indistinct figures appeared at the edge of his vision, and he thought he saw the outline of a severed arm lying on the floor. Startled, he jerked his head to the side to look, but it went out of focus.

Was he imagining all of this?Anakin wondered if anything he saw now bore even a slight resemblance to what was actually occurring.

The... other things that had happened today hadn't been real, had they? None of that seemed to have anything to do with what he had just witnessed, but then why had he seen it? It was yet another of too many events that made it seem as though reality had gone completely off course.

This new training group was an enigma. Everything Kife had told and shown him only created more questions; the apparent leader who was rarely even seen by most of the trainees, the unusual practice room, the intimidating Dark Jedi who Kefa called by what must be her original name, and Kefa herself, alive and well despite her irreverence and young age.

Many strange things appeared to be going on, and Anakin was not sure where the illusions began or ended.


	9. Chapter 9

"She seems to be coming out of it." The voice buzzed in the back of Tahiri's mind.

Groggily, she blinked, trying to understand what was being said. Ilanen Khanrin's gray furred face leaned over her in profile, tilted to the side to allow one worried brown eye to observe her.

"Padawan, what happened? You just collapsed in the middle of the dining hall, and we couldn't bring you out of it. It was like you weren't even here. I couldn't find you in the Force. Do you remember anything?"

"I was walking to the table, and then there was a dark place." Her eyes widened. "Anakin!"

"Was it another dream? You seemed unconscious."

"It wasn't a dream, Master. I saw Anakin, and it was real. There's still a little bit of his presence here, in my head. He's in danger. I have to go back, to help him."

A long ear twitched. "We don't even know where you were, if you were somewhere else. If you really were in Anakin Solo's mind, returning there could be very dangerous. He might not be the only one to detect your presence. It would probably be impossible to locate Anakin a second time, anyway. Do you know how you did so this time?"

"No. It just happened. One moment I was here on Yavin IV, and the next I was there. Then I was back here again, as quickly as I'd left."

"Can you sense a physical location through this connection you're still feeling?"

Tahiri wrinkled her brow, concentrating. "There's nothing like that." Her shoulders slumped. "But I have to find him. He was in pain, really awful pain."

The frazzled Jedi let out a long breath. "Tahiri. I know you miss Anakin, and you're worried about what may be happening to him. So am I. I never met him personally, but you've told me so much that it feels like I have.

"This isn't an easy thing for you to cope with. You can, though, and you must. Only by allowing yourself to grow and deepen your understanding of the Force will you be able to help him, and many others."

Tahiri shook her head. "It just feels like that's time that I don't have. How can I wait and be patient when it might already be too late?"

"It would be much easier to tell you to let things take their course, to try to release your emotions and move on," Ilanen said. "That would protect you from being hurt if he's already too Dark to be saved. It's what you would have been told by those who taught me, and saying this instead seems almost against my better judgment." Her Master was quiet for a moment. Tahiri felt agitated, seeing that Ilanen was uncomfortable with what he had decided.

Finally he said, "Your friend is a brave and resourceful young man. It is possible that he will manage to resist or escape from the Sith on his own. And if not-- I have to admit that there may still be some hope. Leaving the Dark Side is difficult. Since being revived I've met quite a few who seem to have successfully turned back, though. Don't put yourself in unnecessary danger, but don't ever give up."

Ilanen laid an oddly jointed hand on her shoulder. Tahiri managed a small, lopsided smile. This wasn't the first time her Master had offered kind, if somewhat awkward advice on dealing with Anakin's capture by the new Empire.

The two had been one of many Master and Padawan pairs thrown together haphazardly after one of the earliest compromises between the old and new Jedi Orders. The combined Council had decided that all who were accepted for training at all would be allowed to become Jedi, whether chosen as a Padawan or not. However, most Masters capable of training an apprentice would either choose one or be assigned one.

If a Master and Padawan were completely unable to live with working together, they could petition the Council for a reassignment. The Jedi apprentices not assigned or chosen would continue to learn in large groups from a smaller number of fully trained Jedi who had volunteered for the task.

Many had expected Tahiri to become Ikrit's Padawan, since he had already been training her and Anakin. However, with the conflicts that had sprung up between the old and new philosophies, Ikrit had chosen to join the Council. He was effective in resolving some difficult issues because he had been trained long before most of the revived Jedi, and had also lived with the new Jedi for a few years longer than the others. Ikrit still visited Tahiri often, checking on her progress in training. Sometimes they would talk about the absent member of their small group.

She'd never really discussed her worries with Anakin's family. They all seemed to be throwing themselves into work or studies of one kind or another in an effort to forget, and Tahiri felt uncomfortable intruding.

She had been assigned to Ilanen randomly, and could still remember the look on his face. It was somewhat harder to read than a human's because his eyes were set on the sides of his head and his face was a long, deer-like snout. Still, she had been able to tell that he was about ready to keel over from shock. He might not have said, "What have I gotten myself into?" but Tahiri had sensed he felt it many times in their first few months of training.

It was not clear to her why they had been paired together. She had still been in shock over the kidnapping of her best friend and Ilanen from being brought back into a galaxy very different from the one he'd left. Luckily, the Mashuvi Jedi had overcome his uncertainty about his new Padawan, despite the anxieties of both. They had their share of misunderstandings. Ilanen was often left completely befuddled by the ways of the new Jedi and Tahiri had the same difficulty in understanding the reasoning of the more regulated old Order.

However, the two had managed to become friends. Tahiri had noticed that many of the returned Masters seemed to consider an assigned Padawan from the newer generation to be incapable of becoming a 'true' Jedi, though she'd never heard one say it aloud. Ilanen did not hold this belief. On more than one occasion, he had made it clear that he felt the same affection and pride towards Tahiri that he would have for a Padawan of his own era, chosen personally.

Her mind was wandering off on a tangent again. Though she still felt a bit disoriented, Tahiri made the effort to lurch to her feet.

"Wait, the healers should check you over before you leave the medcenter. We still don't know if what just happened to you might have been caused by some sort of illness. They only left to tend to someone who got a nasty burn from one of the training sabers. If they don't find anything, then I'll see if we can talk to someone who has experience with visions and get their opinion."

"I don't think they'll find anything wrong with me. Except for the usual." Tahiri pointed to her head and made a 'crazy' motion, grinning slightly.

"Now, why would the healers notice that? They're going to be scanning you, not me." Ilanen chuckled quietly.

"It's contagious."

"Aha, so I'm contagious now, am I?"

A pillow launched itself at her shoulder. Tahiri returned the favor with a piece of greenery from the lunch tray beside her, which missed Ilanen and instead artistically draped itself over Healer Kasi's nose. This gained her kitchen duty, and Ilanen an invitation to watch over Kasi's Padawan the next day. Tahiri knew Padawan Tarfa, and figured that she had gotten off lightly in comparison to Ilanen. In spite of everything, a sense of peace came over her as she settled back into her daily routine. She knew that someday there would be an opportunity to help Anakin, but there was nothing more she could do about it today.


	10. Chapter 10

Anakin trailed behind Kefa as she led the way through a long, narrow hallway filled with doors. "The quarters are all here. I have no idea which room is yours, so you'll have to ask Raina."

Marvelous, Anakin thought. He'd been hoping to avoid any interaction with the possibly rabid leader. She seemed to have taken an instant dislike to him, or at least severely mistrusted the new addition to her group.

The two students turned around and headed back to the first room. As they returned, Anakin could hear scuffling outside the entrance. The door slid open and three teenagers filed in, followed by a fourth who was in handcuffs, being dragged, and appeared to be determined to do serious damage to the Dark Jedi escorting him. Closing his eyes for a moment, Anakin wished he could turn and run the other way. These were his former allies, people who had depended on him. No matter what had really happened, Anakin was certain of one thing and that was that he'd failed all of them. He wondered if they would even recognize him in the armor, and almost hoped they would not.

They did, though. That much was obvious when their attention went straight to Anakin as they came into the room.

They knew. Dread filled his mind. Impossible, how could they know? Nothing happened. It wasn't real.

First to step inside was Orinda. She looked even more out of contact with reality than usual, hunched over, copper hair hanging over her face and hiding her expression from the world. Taveiran followed in her wake. His charcoal gray eyes were solemn, showing no trace of their usual sparkle. Varsha stood stiffly, her head held high. Though she had never been very emotional, her face was now completely without expression.

The last struggling trainee was pushed into the room and the door quickly closed behind him. Delbin looked terrible. His eyes appeared to be red from crying and he radiated sorrow and anger. When he caught sight of Anakin, his face twisted in rage.

"What did they do to you? Tell me! What did they ever do to you? Phelan was your friend. He thought so, anyway. Looks like you have a strange way of repaying friendship. What about Ystas? Ystas never hurt anyone. Is that why you killed her, is it? Because she wasn't a perfect little _Sithspawn_, like you!"

Delbin seemed to gain a sudden burst of energy and leaped at Anakin. He was caught in mid-lunge. Agwara had darted from her vantage point to grab him securely by the arms.

"I do not know what the rules may have been in your last group, but here you will not endanger another student over personal arguments. This will not happen again." Her voice was cold and fierce, with a hint of an unidentifiable accent. The Dark Jedi maneuvered Delbin out of the room, still speaking to him with quiet menace though Anakin couldn't distinguish the words.

He felt frozen in place. The ability to move or even think had been stripped away. The accusations echoed in Anakin's mind. Ystas and Phelan. Those were the dead bodies he'd seen in the throne room. The memory of a green-skinned hand lying on the floor was clear. It had to have been Ystas'. Anakin felt sick to the core.

_Phelan was your friend. _

_Is that why you killed her, is it? _

Anakin was panicking. He shouldn't be able to breathe now. The fear and disgust should be making him unable to draw breath. The sound of the respirator was louder than ever in his hearing. It was the same as it had been for what felt like centuries, though it might only have been a few days.

_Perfect little Sithspawn._

He understood now. It had been real, it had all been real and now he was a murderer.

It wasn't that Anakin had never been responsible for a death before. A few months ago, another trainee had tried to kill him in a saber fight. He'd used the Force to knock his attacker away. They had been at the edge of a steep drop-off and the other had not survived his fall. Anakin had been horrified and the event still caused nightmares, but he also knew he had only been defending himself. There hadn't been anything he could have done to save his opponent; it had all happened too fast.

This time there was no excuse.

They hadn't been threatening him. There had only been Palpatine's illusion. His actions had been influenced, but the compulsion could not have worked if he had not given in to his urge to lash out. He had allowed the thirst for blood, for revenge for everything that had happened to him in the last year, to control him. Phelan was dead, and Ystas was dead too, and it was his fault.

_Sithspawn._

Suddenly Anakin found that he could move. He walked out of the room quickly, going into the deserted practice room. As the door closed behind him, he sank against the wall. Tears streamed down his face and blurred his vision.

What if there was no way for him to resist the darkness, no way to keep from becoming another Vader just as Palpatine had planned? No way to protect the people he cared about from himself.

Anakin remembered the dream a few hours ago where he had seen Tahiri. It must have been real.

She had not left. She had seen what he was and what he had done, and she had not turned away. Did Tahiri see some kind of future for him, something other than the one that seemed so inevitable now? How could she? She had stayed, though.

The warmth and trust in Tahiri's eyes was the image that remained clearest from the vision. Maybe there was some part of him that was still worth fighting for. For the first time in days, Anakin felt something like hope.

There was no reason why he should give up and let himself become a pawn of the Dark Side when there might be a way out. Although he had already destroyed two lives, that didn't mean he should let himself sink any further. Nothing could change what he'd already done and nothing could make it right. Somehow, he had to find a way to make sure he never allowed something like that to happen again.

He had to choose his own path, and choose the right one. Otherwise, Palpatine would decide it for him. Anakin could not allow that to happen.

Slowly, he shifted away from the wall to stand on his own. He couldn't stay hidden here. It would be better to go back and face the others. Taking responsibility for his recent actions was the only thing he could do now and there was no use in trying to avoid it.


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks, Misti. I couldn't let Anakin wander around clueless forever, could I?Actually I could, but that wouldn't be very interesting. _And now for our next installment. Wherein our hero is mauled by an acklay, brainwashed by the Ssi Ruuvi, and run over by exactly twelve landspeeders as he wanders the galaxy in his usual stupor. Will he finally get a grip? Will he regain the ability to think rationally? Nah. But he'll be back on his feet and stumbling around for our next episode of Anakin Solo: The Eternal Sleepwalker. _By the way, it was very helpful of you to clarify what the line breaks are for.

Sorry about the wait, by the way. I know this is a short little chapter, but the next is much longer.

The swish of the door opening startled Jaina, causing her to lose her grip on the precarious arrangement of a datapad, writing tool, and several sheets of flimsiplast that had been balanced over her knee. The pile collided with the floor in a flurry of rustling and clatter.

Jaina sighed in frustration. She gathered the junk up and set it on the bench beside her. At the other end, Qui-Gon suddenly opened his eyes. Siri Tachi looked up from a report on recent political disputes on Bothawui.

No act of clumsiness ever went unnoticed around here, thought Jaina. She smiled wryly.She could have sworn Master Jinn was asleep.While she was not as allergic to meditation as some, four hours of it on an uncomfortable hospital bench seemed a little extreme.

Luke Skywalker entered the room, looking slightly rushed.

"We've finally got some good news."

Jaina watched in surprise as her uncle quickly levitated the items off of the bench, and arranged them in mid-air with so much elaborate maneuvering of objects that she was reminded of the dogfights she and her brothers used to have using plastic ships.

Now neatly arranged, the assortment of things touched down on the floor adjacent to the stasis unit containing Obi-Wan Kenobi. Luke sat down between Jaina and Qui-Gon, pulling back the hood of his robe.

Surprise turned to near shock as Luke grinned at her. She hadn't seen him appear so unworried, even cheerful, in months. He often seemed to be either solemn or overwhelmed by stress these days.

Jaina felt a bit guilty that she hadn't even realized how worn-out he appeared until noticing the absence of his usual anxiety.

"The doctors say they'll be able to start bringing him out of stasis soon." He gestured towards Kenobi's unconscious form.

A look of relief crossed Qui-Gon's face. "That is reassuring." His voice took on a more humorous tone. "My life has been far too quiet lately."

"It's about time." Siri sounded slightly irritated. "If I have to deal with that Ianth much longer, you'll be investing in ysalamiri and a padded cell for me."

Qui-Gon added, "She is competent and I can respect that, but I have to say the stress of the job seems to make her a bit difficult at times."

Jaina was highly amused by this, though she tried not to show it. Coming from these two, this was almost a Zekk-style character analysis.

Zekk's evaluations tended to take into account complicated theories about the subject's possible species, personal hygiene, bizarre compulsive habits, devious motives, and style of underwear; they were not for the faint of heart or the humorless.

As she turned to look at the speakers, the face under the transparisteel caught her eye. Somehow, she had difficulty connecting the young man before her with the ancient hermit of Uncle Luke's stories. She wondered if it was stranger for her uncle, since he had actually known Kenobi at that time.

Jaina quietly picked up a piece of flimsiplast, and again began scribbling notes on the Outer Rim map. The others continued talking while she marked another probable location of Imperial activity.


	12. Chapter 12

MistiWhitesun: I have read through some of your fic (which is very good, by the way) but I'm not seeing the resemblance beyond the idea of people from the past being brought to life. It's possible I just haven't gotten that far yet. I'm not an expert on Siri, so writing her will require some research, but sheis too interesting to leave out.

The harsh clanging of the wake-up alarm sounded in the hall. Anakin was already awake and preparing for the day. He quickly gathered up his datapad, comlink, and lightsaber. The lightsaber had reappeared in his quarters at some time during the night. Apparently it had been retrieved somehow. Carefully he checked to see that it was undamaged by Force-scanning the components. Finding nothing broken or out of place, he ignited it and tried a simple exercise. It was made unusually difficult by the extra weight added by the armor.

Well, it was not _that_ bad Anakin snorted. Right, he thought. If this was the same exact kind of armor Grandfather had worn, Anakin was in awe of his skill. Vader must have been lucky to have the ability to defeat an Ewok with a sharp stick, much less fully trained Jedi Knights.

Apparently, for himself blind rage was the only thing that even let him move fast enough to do any damage. Though he wanted to erase that memory, Anakin forced himself to let it come to the surface. He refused to forget again or to deny yesterday's eventsOtherwise, something similar might happen in the future.

Isn't this wonderful, he thought. Not only had he (though semi-accidentally) managed to turn into a serial murderer within the course of a few months, but it looked like divine retribution was being unusually punctual.

Delbin appeared to be anxious to avenge Ystas and Phelan's deaths. Anakin had never seen Delbin as the vengeful type before, but then he had never seen himself as any of the things he had recently become. He had feared that he had the potential, but had tried to believe his worries were irrational. His other friends—certainly former friends now, he reminded himself—might just avoid him. However, some of the other students were very opportunistic. One way or another, his dear, compassionate comrades-in–training were probably going to skewer and fillet him.

The policy of allowing trainees to carry sabers at all times had surprised him at first, but he had learned since that the instructors were competent enough at fighting that they had no worries for their own safety. As for any harm the students could and often did do to one another, they simply believed that elimination of the weaker fighters was a natural and positive result. That was why the opponent who had fallen to his death had been so eager and unafraid to attack. Injuring or killing another trainee gained the ambitious and merciless a higher status in the eyes of both the Dark Jedi and the majority of other students. The way some had reacted to his "success" had been sickening.

_The whispers and long, strange looks had followed him all day. Anakin barely noticed. He was still reeling from the events of the day before. Mouse droids tripped him and walls bumped against him, but nothing seemed to demand his attention. In a more alert state of mind, he might have been puzzled that despite his running into every inanimate object within a meter of himself he had not collided with one living being._

_One event that did strike him as being odd was when Master Drefan greeted him with a half smile. "Congratulations, Solo. It seems you're finally learning something, at least." Anakin couldn't remember doing anything particularly well. He tended to go out of his way to seem inept. It kept attention away from him._

_It didn't become clear until later in the day, when he found himself surrounded by Tharsann Shapall and his groupies. Anakin drew his lightsaber, preparing to fight. Tharsann backed away slightly. "Whoa, whoa. Don't be so jittery, Sparky. We're not going to attack you." That didn't seem likely. Tharsann was one of the most bloodthirsty of the trainees. Anakin didn't care for the nickname "Sparky" either, and he was sure Tharsann knew that. He'd gotten that name because of his tendency to get electrocuted frequently, and didn't appreciate the reminder. Anyway, Taveiran was a better subject for that nickname. It was widely believed that he kept a tally of every round of Force lightning thrown in his general direction. _

"_You did well against Maelar. He was one of the better swordsmen. Of course, we all knew you had it in you to be powerful." Tharsann's jaws gaped with a carnivorous looking smile. _

_If he only knew__, Anakin thought. He struggled to keep his revulsion under control. This must be why people had been acting so strangely all day._

"_We could help you, you know. Show you how to develop your skills, if you're going to finally stop holding back."_

_It didn't seem wise to tell them outright that he wanted nothing to do with such an alliance. Anakin did not want to fight again, unsure if he was more afraid of winning or losing. "It was an accident. He just fell, it wasn't even intentional."_

"_I'm sure it was." Tharsann laughed. "That's a good story to keep his friends from coming after you. But I think we both know better. Just think about it. Sooner or later you'll have to break out of your little pathetic act." He turned and left, and his followers slunk away after him as they muttered among themselves._

The stream of memories faded at last. Anakin sighed. He'd probably be drifting in and out of the present all day now. The lack of concentration, at least, was not entirely his fault. The main problem was that he'd had almost no sleep the night before. Not only had Delbin tried to attack him again as he returned to the room where the rest were gathered, after which everyone apparently had nothing better to do than stare at him in silence for what felt like two hours straight. Not only that, but the machinery that was supposed to keep him alive and breathing while he slept seemed determined to short out and malfunction at every opportunity. Perhaps he had hooked it up to his life support incorrectly, but he suspected it was just the usual substandard equipment that complicated every aspect of life in the training center. He was just lucky he'd managed to sense the danger and wake up. Wonder how Palpatine thinks he's going to train a dead apprentice, he reflected morbidly. It appeared that someone had managed that with Palpatine. Anakin would have to find some way to use a Force trance rather than sleep, or find a way to fix the pile of junk. Either that or he could sign himself up for zombie apprentice courses.

Anakin trotted briskly down the hall. He wasn't sure where he was going, but moving at a fast pace helped clear the tiredness and confusion from his mind. As he rounded a corner, he saw an unfamiliar person headed towards him. The man appeared to be in his early twenties. His black hair and dark skin reminded him of the Jedi student from Naboo he had sometimes teased Tahiri about staring at several months ago. Of course, Anakin didn't take an interest in things like that. He and Tahiri were friends, nothing else. If he ever saw the Academy again, he wouldn't mind if Tahiri and Mr. Tall, Dark, And Handsome Non-Psycho With No Cybernetic Limbs Or Organs And In Fact Not A Scratch On Him were happily married with six kids. That was actually a complete lie, Anakin thought. In reality, he would probably go into a five-hundred-year sulk

The stranger gave him a small but warm smile. "Anakin Solo? We were unable to meet yesterday, because I was tending Wysha's leg. Again." He muttered, "I don't know how she manages to injure herself so often. Hazardous situations follow her like a pack of starving vornskrs, I swear." His shaggy head shook in disbelief. "Enough of that. My name is Rahl Melanc. I go by Melanc most of the time. Never liked the sound of Rahl. There's no fully-trained medic around here, but I was learning to be one before all of this so I do what I can. Don't look so suspicious. I've never done damage to any of my patients. Except for Wysha, that one time. It's supposed to be impossible for a human to be allergic to sliriff leaves. How was I to know she was the exception?"

They were walking down a side corridor Anakin hadn't noticed before. Melanc opened the last door and they entered a room filled with an organized jumble of flimsiplast sheets, datapads, and medical equipment. The equipment appeared to be old but in good repair, though Anakin had very little knowledge of how it was supposed to function. Nothing alerted the subconscious itch that sometimes affected him in the presence of malfunctioning devices.

"Stand still for a minute, all right? I need to run a scan to see how these recent injuries and cybernetic implants may be affecting you. Agwara will have my head if I let you go to practice as you are without knowing what things may impair your physical abilities. That right leg you seem to be favoring, for one."

Reflexively Anakin tried to change his position. It was generally a bad idea to reveal any weakness. He thought he'd done well at hiding the limp, but once he was standing still and listening to Melanc his weight had unconsciously shifted.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe I was trying not to walk on it a little because my foot fell asleep. You can let me go now, there's nothing that needs to be checked." Anakin felt guilty for putting a slight Force suggestion into his words, but this could be a matter of life and death.

"Mmm hmmm. Certainly. Solo, it looks to me like your foot is cybernetic. It can't be doing that—unless it's faulty, in which case it needs to be examined and fixed." Narrowing black eyes fixed stubbornly on Anakin.

"And why would you or anyone else need to know about this? It will just make it easier for you to turn me into Devaronian barbeque."

"That's already been attempted, if you hadn't noticed. And no one in this group is going to seriously harm you in any way. We're a little more focused on ensuring that we can all survive against the Jedi and other Imperials. I don't know what the last group you were in was like, but it sounds as if it was one of those high-and-mighty types that go through the vast majority of their members within a year. They don't seem to realize they are damaging their own cause."

"Their cause? Not yours?" He was uncertain he'd read Melanc's remark correctly.

Melanc laughed. "You're well aware that most of this lovely institution's residents are captured rather than recruited. Does it surprise you so much that I'm one of them?" He paused slightly. "And… the loyalties and purpose of this particular group are complicated."

"That would account for some of the strange behavior I've noticed here," Anakin responded cautiously.

"I suppose it might seem strange to you. Look, I'm not even supposed to tell you this much yet. Catraina is still not sure if you're a risk."

"Who is Catraina? Is she the one Kefa calls Raina? Because if she is, I thought she was an instructor. She seems to have a Sith title. Lady Agura, or something like that. That's what people were calling her yesterday, and you mentioned that name before. It would be unusual for her to be involved in whatever you seem to be implying. Is it something to do with a power struggle between her and someone else?"

"In a way. You'll understand in time, don't worry about it. Her name is Agwara, not Agura. Yes, she would be the one Kefa was referring to. I just was trying to explain, before I got sidetracked, that you have no need to worry for your safety. We do our best to ensure that everyone has the skills to protect themselves—but that doesn't mean striking at each other's weaknesses, it means learning to decrease or work around them."

"That sounds a bit like Jedi training methods."

Shrugging, Melanc answered, "I wouldn't know about that. Lady Agwara is a Dark Force user, and so are many of the others. They're more accepting of Light Siders than most I've seen, but they do expect you to pull your weight. The main focus is on training fighters who can hold their own against any kind of threat. How you get the power to do it is considered unimportant so long as you can. It's that vicious krathling, Cynaiad that you want to watch out for. She's not fully aware of any of this. If and when she finds out—well, that's when the poodoo will hit the ventilation unit."

Despite his confusion, Anakin was feeling reassured by the account of the circumstances in his new environment. It sounded as though he and the others who had been attempting to escape might have a chance here.

Melanc wryly suggested, "Since I've already managed to spill half of what I was not to tell you, would you please just let me run the scan so I can stop digging myself into a hole?"

"But you haven't gotten to the juicy parts yet. Like the spork-throwing incident, and the weekly strip sabaac game."

"How did you know about that? That's meant to be strictly confidential information." The false horror in the words contrasted with the amusement in Melanc's expression. A slight grin kept creeping into view.

"Connections, how else?" His own laughter sounded like that of a stranger, but it felt good.

Melanc fiddled with the scanner, checking to see if the settings were correct, and then scanned Anakin carefully. "This thing is old and outdated, but it should be able to show…" His voice trailed off. He looked as though he were trying to form words but his vocal chords had ceased to work. Anakin tried to duck around behind him to see what was showing, but Melanc quickly picked it up. "Stay right here," he ordered and left the room with a purposeful stride.

Though he intended to stay put, Anakin was overcome by his curiosity when a disturbance began filtering through the Force, and the walls. Someone was very displeased by something, and was voicing their discontent at full volume. He had a feeling it had to do with what Melanc had seen on the scan.

He tracked the commotion into a corridor on the other side of the main room from the ones he had already seen. The sound was coming from an opened door. Anakin stayed at the other end of the hall, listening and hoping he could not be heard.

"Yes, Master. I have _issues_. I have an issue with the fact that one of the new students is a walking demolition device, and _you knew. And didn't tell me!_"

The familiar crackling sound of Force lightning filled the air, and Anakin winced in sympathy. Another voice began snarling, but too quietly for him to make out what was said.

Anakin was reminded that he probably wasn't supposed to have heard the argument when Lady Agwara came into the hall from the opened door, followed by another black-robed figure. This might be Cynaiadhe decided. He turned to leave, but had been spotted.

"What do we have here? An eavesdropper. Interesting." The unknown Dark Jedi drifted towards him. Her hair, face, and eyes appeared unnaturally colorless. Although she was pale, she didn't glow in the shadowy light of the hall. It was more as if the life had been leached from her, leaving only a washed out and slightly grayish shadow. The calculating expression on her face reminded Anakin of a scavenger sizing up a pile of bones that just might have a bit of skin and fur left on it.

She turned suddenly and spoke to Agwara. "You will take care of this problem. I want to hear nothing more about it."

"Of course, Master." Agwara nodded respectfully. If not for her slightly singed appearance, Anakin would have had difficulty believing the two had violently disagreed only moments before.

Cynaiad glided away, apparently satisfied. The other Dark Jedi turned to Anakin. "You were told not to leave the medcenter. Only myself and Cynaiad are to be obeyed over Melanc. This probably was not known to you, so I will let it slide this time."

"Why Melanc? Is he—?"

She gestured in the negative. "Melanc has no formal status, but he is the only medical expert of any kind that we have and I've found it saves hassle and injury to ensure that his orders are enforced." Agwara eyed him with disapproval. "It would be best if you stayed out of this area. My Master and I have our quarters here, and neither of us appreciates being disturbed."

Anakin had no problems with avoiding it, in that case. Lady Cynaiad reminded him unpleasantly of Palpatine, and Agwara carried an aura of danger and mistrust towards him. The mistrust had only increased now that he had been revealed as a threat, though an unwilling one.

Agwara led him back to the room Melanc had brought him to earlier. Melanc was intently studying something on a datapad.

"Have you found anything yet?"

"Some. It will take time to organize it."

Anakin asked,"What are you looking for?"

Agwara looked at him calmly. "We're looking for a way to disarm the explosives someone generously installed in you," she said. She paused. "You don't seem surprised by that."

"Not really. I thought I'd found some before."

"Then why didn't you tell anyone?" Melanc sounded almost insulted. "It could have saved a bit of trouble, you know."

"What was I going to say? "Hi, I'm Anakin. Don't touch the left elbow; it might blow up." You wouldn't have even believed it."

"You'd be surprised at what we'll believe," Melanc said.

As he watched Melanc enter information while digging through the clutter around him, Anakin couldn't help wondering how these people thought they could fix this problem. Aside from tossing him out the nearest window—if there even were any windows to the outside around here.

"So where exactly are you going to get the equipment to do this? Or even the information on how to do it?"

"The same way we do everything else here," Agwara replied.

Melanc chuckled. "She means that we will use what is available here. If what is available is not what we need, then we will just have to beg, borrow, and steal from elsewhere."


	13. Chapter 13

Thank you, MistiWhitesun. Deja vu, huh? I fixed that sentence on the other site.

Whisps of pale light filtered onto the twisting path. The branches of the trees overhead were draped in a thick layer of long, transparent leaves. In some places they hung down close to the ground. Appearing from the mist, the indistinct forms resembled shadowy, greenish ghosts.

Jyota followed the familiar route easily. His mind focused eagerly on the reason for his travel. He dodged around the roots of a gnarled tree and grinned slightly when he emerged from the tangled forest at his destination. The clearing he stepped into was relatively small, but almost completely devoid of the life that overflowed almost every square centimeter of Yavin IV's surface. It was quiet, and truly peaceful to his mind. The cacophony of growth, death, and conflict that often irritated him ceased here.

However, he had not come to meditate. His smile widened as he caught sight of his Master. This meeting place always reminded him of the first time they had met.

_The only place he felt at peace now was in the clearing. Jyota was in turmoil more often than not. He did not have any memory of his death, but he remembered the months of running and hiding, of knowing that more and more of the Jedi had been hunted down. And he remembered his outrage that a delinquent child who never should have been trained had destroyed the Order that Jyota idolized. He'd worked hard to be accepted as an apprentice, yet Skywalker had done nothing—and he repayed the Jedi by slaughtering them. _

_Jyota's own Master had fallen trying to defend him. That was all he remembered of the minutes before his death, but it was too much. It was Jyota's duty to watch out for him. The sense of failure was unbearable._

_At first he had been utterly confused by the changed galaxy he entered after being brought out of stasis. As he began to realize the differences in the Jedi Order, anger began to take the place of disorientation and fear. The Jedi now apparently owed their existence as an organization to the offspring of Vader. That stuck in his throat. Jyota absolutely despised anything to do with that creature. To think that his son was now the head of the Jedi Order, and that the few alive and conscious members of the Council had acknowledged him as their leader. It made him sick._

_The way these new Jedi behaved was unacceptable to him as well. They allowed themselves to form dangerous attachments, which was what had brought the Jedi down in the first place. He also could not stand their outspoken and disrespectful attitudes. The young ones were especially opinionated and would contradict or question what they were told by those more experienced than themselves._

_The means of using the Force that were taught were often unusual and seemed suspicious to him. Sometimes the lessons involved techniques learned from Force using groups who weren't Jedi at all. The Dathomirians and the Jensaraii were accepted as equals of the Jedi, something Jyota found impossible to comprehend. The Jedi Code had been developed by countless generations of Jedi from the most civilized worlds of the galaxy. Surely teachings from elsewhere would be inferior at best, and at worst temptations to the Dark Side._

_What bothered him most was that former Dark Side users were allowed to hold the title of Jedi. The only way to deal with a follower of the Dark Side was execution or inescapable imprisonment. If these people had any sense they would see that. The knowledge that some of the people he saw daily were psychopaths walking free grated on his nerves._

_Jyota's master had not been brought back to life. He knew this instinctively, although it had not yet been officially confirmed. The Council had not assigned him to a new Master because of their uncertainty. Instead he was expected to take classes with a few other Padawans who had lost Masters, and an insufferable bunch of undisciplined students of the new Jedi._

_The resentful Padawan had taken to disappearing to this silent place whenever possible. He thought of it as a spot for meditation, though he more often found himself brooding on the wrongs of the so-called Jedi he was forced to put up with._

_One afternoon, he was shocked to discover that while it was still quiet, the clearing was not empty when he reached it. A man in Jedi robes was already there. He greeted Jyota._

"_Hello. You are Jyota Doaki? I knew your Master, and he spoke of you often."_

"_Greetings, Master." Jyota looked at him questioningly, not knowing the Jedi's name. It was not anyone he recognized, and the hooded robe and shadows of the canopy above prevented him from seeing the man's face._

"_I apologize, but it is probably best if I don't tell you my name. There are those who have joined with the New Order who would know me and want to speak with me. But I do not want anything to do with this false new Jedi Order, and would rather remain missing for the time being."_

_The words made Jyota feel at ease with this stranger. At last, he had found someone who understood how he felt about the way the Order was functioning. A Master of the true Jedi, one he could respect. He even seemed to have had some contact with Jyota's Master at one point. Jyota felt a flicker of hope._

"_When did my Master speak to you?"_

_The man sighed. "I am sorry. It was before the Purges, and I have not seen him since." He studied Jyota for a minute. "He told me that you were strong and dedicated to the Code, and I see that you are."_

_Jyota struggled not to beam with pride._

"_It is sad, the state the Order has fallen to," the unknown Jedi commented. "But I think with the help of young people like you, it will return to greatness."_

"_How? Look at the… people they allow. Sith, criminals, and reckless fools. Many who could never pass the usual requirements are trained in large classes, or even as Padawans. They are always going to hold us back."_

"_You can change it, Jyota. I see great potential for leadership in you. You are uncompromising, and many of the more uncertain among your peers will look to you for guidance if you begin to speak up against what you distrust."_

"_If I do, the members of the New Order won't trust me."_

"_Not if you are too blunt. It would be best to attack one issue at a time. The most important thing is to make them see that there are servants of the Dark Side in their midst. Once they are convinced of this and the offenders are removed for the safety of all, then their influence will no longer pollute the minds of our brethren. With this new clarity, they will come to understand our vision, our memory of how things should be."_

That meeting had changed his life completely. He frequently met his Master at the clearing (he thought of the man as his Master, since he had filled the hole in Jyota's life where his old Master had once been.) Jyota learned many things from him, including how to inspire loyalty and make others believe the truth of his cause. To his amazement, the new skills had been very effective. Jyota Doaki was now the leader of a faction that comprised nearly half of the Order.

They had managed to almost completely discredit some of the former Dark Jedi. Kyp Durron was now off of the combined Council that had been created. Mara Jade was somewhat protected by her marriage to Luke Skywalker, but rumors about atrocities connected to the Emperor's Hand were slowly spreading. Those less well-known were also finding that public opinion had turned against them, and often only family and close friends would associate with them.

His Master called, "Hello, Padawan," as Jyota approached. The word "Padawan" was always tinged with amusement, which Jyota perceived as affection.

"Good morning, Master. The movement is doing well."

"Yes, so I have heard. If things continue to progress, it will not be long before you will be able to press for retrials of some of the Dark Jedi."

"Are you sure? It seems very soon."

"Oh, I am certain. Quite certain."


End file.
